Ladies of the Canyon
by The Hart and Hound
Summary: They are hard women, like saltrose and topaz. [Kankurou and a group of Konoha shinobi cross the desert in each other’s company. Slight KankurouSakura.]


Title: The Ladies of the Canyon

Recipient: infiinficio

Author's Notes: Sorry infiinficio, no ShikaSaku since I seemed incapable of completing it, but you are more than welcome to some KankuSaku. It's a light pairing in this one shot, since romance has never been a forte on my part.

Pairing: Kankurou/Sakura

Warnings: None

Genre: Drama/Light Romance/Introspective

Rating: K+ (for Kankurou's proclivity to rudeness.)

Word Count: 3,049

Description: They are hard women, like salt-rose and topaz. Kankurou and a group of Konoha shinobi cross the desert in each other's company. Kankurou/Sakura.

* * *

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, _

_or topaz, or as the arrows of carnation that the fire shoots off._

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved_

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

-Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII

* * *

It is the wind that at first tells him that they near the eastern canyons, though it is little more than a whisper against the fabric of his ears, muffled and hissing like a snake. (_He shudders, for the sibilance of the sound reminds him of another with yellow glass eyes and a quick, convincing tone, the clever magician that pulls Kankurou's father's face on and off with easy movements._) He trusts this whispering though, because the desert does not lie in its brutal and indiscriminate manner.

Kankurou will not lie needlessly either. It is troublesome to maintain the facade of masculine invincibility, something he's never felt particularly strongly anyway. When escorting the Hokage across the more arid portions of the desert, he will freely admit that he is tired and that it would be best to stop soon. He can think of no better place than this solid barrier of rock, red and pale yellow in the fading sun. The wind is crisp and biting, finding ways around the collar of his uniform to raise goose bumps at the nape. It will be cold soon, he knows, even if right now he is comfortable in the never-winter of the desert, his black cotton shirt absorbing what it can of the sunlight in defiance. His voice echoes against the sandstone, regardless of his wishes to remain quiet. The desert is unforgiving in this way, and it relents to no one, not even the strong Tsunade before him, walking steadfastly in her far more practical than usual shoes.

She nods, as though she has heard his suggestion before he can give it voice. She is an insightful woman, if not a little bit unnerving with her sharp eyes and painfully pinched lips, as though angry without knowing why. Kankurou is more than just intimidated by her, because not only is she more frightening than himself and his artfully applied kabuki make-up, but she towers, a pillar of pale stone and windy hollows. (_Where these hollows are, he dares not guess, but when she smiles so half-heartedly he suspects that it is in the space beneath her strong breastbone. It __is spite that keeps her moving, he thinks, not a beating heart._)

"We'll stop here," he says to the other escorts, and they all nod as a single entity. All except one, who stumbles a bit in the sand but is no less dignified in her stuttering steps than the Hokage next to him. "Sakura-san, you have to lift your feet completely from the sand or you'll feet will catch," he says nonchalantly. The laugh under his breath is just barely audible, but enough for the younger kunoichi to hear.

She scowls, sends him a grumbling "I'm fine" over the whistling of the wind against the canyon walls, and bravely continues on to stand with firmness next to her teacher. He smiles wryly, feeling the purple lines on his face crack in their dryness and make his eyes water. The saline is evaporated before he can blink.

"Sakura, you should pay attention to him. Kankurou only means to keep you from overworking yourself," says Tsunade, turning to her apprentice with a frown and arms crossed over her chest. "Part of being a visiting shinobi is the ability to defer to your host on matters you are not familiar with."

"I know, Tsunade-sensei," says Sakura in a way that suggests that she doesn't believe that at all, and Kankurou notices with some amusement that she bites the corner of her mouth, eyebrows turned into an angry line. From what he has seen, he knows that the two women get along well, but Tsunade is overpowering in her power, and Sakura, only a little over a year into her apprenticeship, is overly sensitive to criticism.

She is especially sensitive to criticism from others.

As a person who has heard nothing but it since a young age, Kankurou thinks her silly and makes it a point to pick at her sensitivity with jabbing nails and a smiling face. After all, a sugary girl such as herself should be able to swallow her bitterness with a false smile. But despite all his attempts, she does not show the same irritation with him that she shows with her teacher.

Sakura frowns and looks out into the canyon, letting his deliberate cruelties slide over her like the wind on the stone face of the desert walls.

* * *

Sitting around the fire is not quite enough to fight off the chill of the desert winter, and despite everyone's reluctance to do so, especially when they are already tired and covered in grit and sweat of the day, they are huddled close together around a large fire, chewing on dried meats and fruit. Tsunade does not mind as much of the others, holding a clipboard and a sake dish in separate hands, ignoring Shizune's fussing over her shoulder. Sakura sips tea from a thermos, sending withering glares toward him.

She has not forgotten the attack on Konoha during the Chuunin exam, and with arctic green eyes, she lets him know under no uncertain terms that she never will. The grievances will fade, but Kankurou made himself into the enemy the minute he had begun to pick on her and Naruto not so long ago.

Kankurou smiles, his skin buckling under the stiff purple lines of his face. For someone that he is supposed to be able to tease, someone that is supposed to keep him entertained, she does an admirable job of putting him out to sea without any water to drown with. He'll have to settle for liquid sand.

"Why aren't you even trying to irritate me anymore?" she asks from out of the blue, standing at the sheltered entrance of her tent, frown tilting her mouth down in sharp angles. "It was giving me something to look forward to." Kankurou would find her openness very amusing was it not for the fact that he felt a trap underneath all that vulnerability. Against his will, he is impressed with her hidden, but possibly subconscious, (talent? skill?) defense.

"I was under the impression that you didn't appreciate it," he says wryly, feeling the corners of his mouth lift.

She frowns deeper, but he can see amusement in it somewhere, in the twitch of a lip and a quirk of an eyebrow that may only be the trick of firelight on the blackness of their surroundings. "I didn't. However, it's still a lot more interesting than listening to the wind howl and Tsunade complain about her heels being sore."

"What do I look like, a walking source of entertainment?"

Sakura smiles unwisely and Kankurou bristles. "The verbal sparring keeps me on my toes," she says, both casual and uncomfortable all at once. "Besides, if what your sister has told me is true, you're a good person to fight with."

"As opposed to you other team members fighting? I'd imagine they used to make all the noise that you could ever possibly want."

She winces at the "used to", looking bitter and offended. "You really don't have to bring that up, you know. It's bad enough without either of them here, but you don't have to remind me that there's nothing that compares to their company." She looks at her new bone-white arm guards, already deeply scuffed and scratched with chakra and wood chips alike. "I only wanted to feel a little less solitary. I'll talk to the others if I want to be alone in a crowd."

Kankurou looks across the shadows to the larger fire pit where he can see a group cutting back on their worries, their shift having long since ended. Sand shinobi do not make it a point to leave their sobriety when on a mission, but most are still young and enjoy a joke or two between each other. In another time, Kankurou might have joined them, free with his laughs but his nerves pulled in tight for anything.

There used to be a scene like this for Sakura, not so very long ago, but he knows through Temari and Gaara that there is no team for her anymore, just a secret that is not spoken loudly. Teams do not break up very often, and for all three to split themselves between new teachers is almost unheard of. Under Tsunade's tutelage, Sakura will be strong, but she will be just as singular as her teacher. Kankurou can imagine that it will be much the same for Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto, because when they are not together, there can be no bonds, and the likes of them will not seek new ones.

"My apologies," he said in a manner that is insincere on a glance. (_He is sorry, but not for what offence that she has imagined that he has made. He is sorry for something neither of them can fix and that he is certain she does not want mended._) "If its all the same to you, Sakura-san, I will keep you company, but I won't likely hold my tongue, girl or not. I'm an unrepentant asshole."

Sakura smiles, her face a puzzle of recesses and plains, lips thin and dry. "I wouldn't have it any other way." It is her solidarity against the midnight canyon wall that Kankurou will remember as attractive in her woman-child way, soft in the face but body made of scissor shadows caused by tension.

* * *

"...And that's why I am fully of the belief that children are retarded, no matter how book smart they are," Kankurou says with a flippant gesture of his hand to the fire, winding puppet string between his fingers into webs, The wind pulls a little at the ends of it, but he is dextrous enough to focus on both that and an argument.

Sakura scoffs. "Only a boy would make such an absolute statement. What about all the things that a child can think of that an adult might overlook? They have more imagination than you, that's for certain," she grumbles, staring into the embers with tired eyes.

He takes no offence, o at least not immediately, choosing instead to smile with his knife-white teeth, feeling them tug his mouth into a smirk. Sakura gives him a look of irritation, as though she can not quite believe that he really is that arrogant. "You're just falling back on your original argument now. Yes, kids are inventive, and sometimes they think up approaches that I wouldn't, but it doesn't change the fact that they think that they are fire-proof and invisible."

"Naruto certainly thinks he is," she says glibly, smiling fondly. "And don't tell me you don't like him. Childish or not, he's got enough potential and heart in one little finger than most of us will have in our entire lives." Sakura no longer mentions her blonde friend quite as hesitantly as she might of hours before, not after the passage of night into early morning. Kankurou, he realizes, has unwittingly been crude, free, and good humored long enough to earn some manner of trust. He wonders if it isn't just that he resembles their topic of choice.

"I like the kid, but he's annoying as all hell," he mutters, eyes still crescents of amusement. "Orange. Of all the colors for a ninja to wear, he chooses orange. If that's not obnoxious, then what is?"

"I told you not to pick on him," she says huffily, cracking her fingers thoughtfully, a bad habit that she has no doubt picked up from her teacher. To learn the immense strength of Tsunade, he can only imagine that she has broken more fingers in six months than he has in a lifetime. To his amusement, he starts to count the minutes with the cartilage clicks. "Just because he's a moron, it doesn't make him any less of a friend to me. If he wants to wear orange and broadcast that he's in the area, then he can do just that," she concludes, before turning thoughtfully. "Provided that I am not in the general vicinity. I'm afraid I don't have the same boundless energy he does to fight off _every_ opponent in the area."

"But you have enough," he adds, and he's not really sure why. "You have enough for when it counts." And she does, very unlike what he can recall. It's true that he doesn't see the same little girl that he saw on his first day in Konoha, but at the same time, he doesn't see near as much of an adult as he knows that she can be. Sakura is not yet where she will need to be, but she _will_, if the tilt of he chin and the rocky faced brush-off of his criticisms have anything to say about it. He's seen enough ninja in his lifetime to know that someday, she _will,_ and that neigh sayers only see pink hair and a vulnerable heart (_and it still is, but most grow out of that. He did the first time he was commanded to kill his brother if he ever moved beyond his limits_.) In this respect, she is like his sister before the dissent and war came.

But he won't tell her that. He's arrogant enough to think that she needs to learn for herself. Low self-confidence or not, her self worth will depend on what she thinks of herself, and it's not _his_ job to make her ego grow. He fought for his recognition, and she can do the same.

All the same, his slip of the tongue makes her smile lightly, popping fingers to what he can imagine is her heartbeat.

"Thank you, Kankurou-san. For all your unpleasantness, you might not be as obnoxious as I thought."

"Don't thank me," he says sharply. "We're not where we need to be yet, and I haven't been as unpleasant as I could be."

He wonders if she'll understand. She seems clever enough, but she is also naive.

Whether or not she does, they sit and talk idly for a long time yet, watching the moon cross the sky with its sallow yellow light until it has set over the dunes beyond the rock walls. Despite his resolve to remain surly and critical of her skills, he feels something like affection for the deceptively fragile girl next to him, sitting awkwardly on a log in her healer vestiges, laughing and scowling at him in tangent. They sit together until long after the embers burn, and the only thing around them is sleeping men, a lady commander without a definite calling, and the empty chasms of the canyon that none can see.

* * *

The sun rises pink in the desert, painting the sky in dark, dusty colors that Kankurou knows will make sandstorms and monsoons later in the day. He breathes deeply, the smell of earth and hollow places filling him, and imagines how good it will be to be home at the end of the day. Around him, the camp begins it's first signs of stirring in the semi-darkness, and next to him, wrapped in a brown cloak and his brotherly arm is Sakura.

She even frowns in her sleep, he thinks with amusement, shaking her lightly.

"Oi, Sakura-san, wake up, or I'm gonna take your cloak and _really_ make you mad," he says, falling back on clumsy speech and threats, something he is comfortable and familiar with. He knows it annoys his sister, and now Sakura, but there's only so much that a person can do to change for others.

Besides, he thinks with a wry grin, the freshly painted lines of his face sliding smoothly into his grin, I would never ask either one of them to stop being bitchy just because it annoyed me.

Sakura, in true form of Tsunade's apprentice, opens her eyes quickly, brushes the sand from her medic skirt, and nods in greeting. She never says a word to him, still a little rough around the edges from sleep and exhaustion. In that respect, she is not so very different than the mountains of the western edge that Kankurou had been fond of in his early genin days, jagged and worn down from the spring wind currents.

"You look like death warmed over," he tells her, and enjoys the scowl that crosses her face with record timing. Had she been Temari, he would have been nursing a new bruise on his shoulder. (_He does not immediately recall that Sakura's punches will hurt much more than a fond older sister, but does not fear that it will happen. He thinks he might trust her enough to believe that she wouldn't just yet._) "Camping doesn't suit you at all. Maybe you should go back to Konoha and stick with the medic crap you're so fond of," he says flippantly.

Sakura, eyes no longer warm or pleasant, tells him simply, "It suits me just fine." She does not complain even once to Tsunade that her very skin and bones ache with chill. She keeps pace with them, and continues to let his comments slide off of her. They might sting for a moment, but she will be better formed for them.

"It does suit you," he says to the wind, glad that it won't carry it back.

* * *

"The girl's built like a valley right now," he tells his sister later on that evening, far from grains of sand that make him miss the shutters of his own home and the unusual loopy lace of his mother's pillows. She smiles at him, pulling her wild blonde hair back with a simple brush, and tells him that he's harsh on just about everyone. (_Which is how it should be, he thinks, satisfied_.)

"But you just watch, give her a storm or tow, and she'll wear down, but not in the way that people do." He says "people" with such venom that his sister is startled for a moment. "No, it'll be in the way that the hills do, until she is layers of stone and shell and porcelain, you know, like mom used to show us on the cliffs. And damn, won't it be awesome when she does?"

Temari, a girl who already is built into the precipices, made of quartz and granite, tells him that she hopes so.


End file.
